


Between living and dreaming

by impalabro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean dreams about Cas, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, destiel everywhere, that's the essence of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalabro/pseuds/impalabro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you're happy in a dream, does that count?" Dean doesn’t really know when his sleeping thoughts began to shape themselves into a particular angel; he just knows he doesn’t want it to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between living and dreaming

Dean doesn’t really know when his sleeping thoughts began to shape themselves into a particular angel; he just knows he doesn’t want it to stop. He wants to carry on dreaming for the rest of eternity, safe in his imagined world with Cas, while the world explodes into chaos around him.

_When his eyes are shut, the two of them are walking around town discussing their lives, sitting in cafes and diners until they’re chased out by the sharp yell of “closing time!”, driving to the edge of the universe to watch the sun ripple into the sea. They kiss a lot, and are forever holding each other’s hands, but there are no baleful looks in their direction, no derisive sneers, no comments replete with judgement when they check into motels._

Sometimes it’s hard waking up and remembering how paradise doesn’t exist, and that his relationship with Cas isn’t nearly as established as he’d like it to be. It’s hard to prevent his mind tearing holes in reality and allowing some of his dreams to bleed through, because when he sees Cas padding about the kitchen pitiably, he knows they’d be doing something great together if he were dreaming. It’s hard because Dean is powerless, and can’t for the life of him inspire the same happiness in Cas that he does so effortlessly in his head.

_At night, he finds small comfort in slipping into Cas’ bed when he can’t sleep, and he feels Cas entangle his legs in his, his warmth seeping through Dean’s skin and pulsing into some spot in his chest. They stay wrapped around each other for the whole of Dean’s dream sometimes, faces almost touching, and Dean can see every one of his pores, Cas’ sweet breath marking his skin. He’s not in control of anything, but his subconscious knows him too well, and guides his reveries perfectly, from touches into kisses, into dewy whispers in ears, and soon into Dean fisting his hands into the linen as feeling blossoms through his body and he calls out Cas’ name twice, three times, four…_

He wakes up in a transient state of bliss, and the brief few seconds before real life rushes up to him are the best, because the love he has for Cas feels as tangible as anything.

_“I wish we could stay here for the rest of our lives.” The sentiment is Dean’s, because they’re sitting beside each other at the highest point of a cliff by the coast, feet dangling over the black rock, as the wind blows across the spirited shout of a boat’s horn as it sets off out of the bay, framed by birds that trail after the smoke from its chimney. Dean shifts slightly, laying his head in Cas’ lap._

_“It is an unconventional type of beauty,” Cas replies, “almost rugged,” and he tilts his head down to kiss Dean’s hairline, then his nose. He lingers there for a moment, whispering quietly into his ear._

What was it he had said? He’s tried to remember so many times, but in his memory Cas’ voice fades to nothing, washed over by the waves breaking on the shore.

_Hours fly by. “Let’s buy a house here, Dean,” and Dean hears the longing in his words, “just a little one by the beach. Wouldn’t it be lovely?” And he agrees without hesitation. They’re not short of money or time in the dream world, so anything goes. They spend the next few years fixing the cottage up, and Cas starts growing herbs and vegetables, and they eat lunch on the sand every day._

The dreams don’t follow on from each other all the time, so sometimes it’s an entirely new setting, a new house, a new garden, but Cas never changes; he loves Dean unconditionally. This is no less than how the real Cas loves him, but for the fact that the real Dean can’t face up to him; in the dream Dean’s a better version of himself, one who hasn’t trampled over Cas’ pleas for help or harmed him in any conceivable way.

_Cas stands by the kitchen door, watching him cook a stir fry. The next minute, he’s walking over to Dean and slips an apron that’s lying on the counter over his head. “That smells wonderful,” Cas draws in another breath, and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, resting his hands at the bottom of his stomach._

_Dean leans back into him with a sigh. “Damn, Cas, think you could try to be less hot when I’m cooking?” and he feels Cas’ shoulders shaking with gentle laughter. “Seeing as you’re here, you can help.” He takes his hand off the pan’s handle and motions for him to take it, watching as Cas’ hand flexes around the rubber._

_“Just move it back and forth, like you’re tossing a pancake. Like this,” and Dean wraps his hand around Cas’, leading his movements. Cas makes an involuntary noise as the coarse skin of Dean’s hand envelops his own, an indefinite amount of time passing in their wake, and Dean can almost sense Cas’ heartbeat through his fingers._

_“We’re about done,” Dean manages to say with effort, turning the heat off. He keeps his hand on top of Cas’ as he pours the food onto a plate, rubbing circles on Cas’ knuckle with his thumb as Cas nips at the back of his neck._

He’s never told anyone about them, about the second life he slips into at night. It’s the one thing he has to hold onto that hasn’t been spoilt or invaded, and sometimes he realises how sad that is. Sure, it’s unhealthy, to try to cultivate a romance that doesn’t exist beyond the parameters of his mind, but he doesn’t care anymore. He’ll take any flicker of happiness that comes his way.

_They’re in a tent, camping out on a field miles away from anything, drinking from flasks of hot chocolate. And as they laugh and talk, night becomes dawn._

_They’re in a hot air balloon, ascending towards the edge of the atmosphere, and the sky stretches out before them._

_They’re riding down the highway on a motorbike, Cas at the handlebars with Dean holding onto him at the back. The moon hangs bright in the sky, trees blur into one colour, and car headlamps shine the way as they speed forwards into oblivion._


End file.
